


Beneath the Heart Tree

by TreeMaiden (Dalzo)



Series: Arya x Gendry Week 2017 [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya X Gendry Week, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalzo/pseuds/TreeMaiden
Summary: A raven arrives, offering a suitor for Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell.The Winterfell Smith doesn't react too well at the news.~ Day Three: It's Not About Me ~





	Beneath the Heart Tree

**Author's Note:**

> It's 3am, I have school in five hours and I'm already sleep deprived. 
> 
> I'm more dedicated to axgweek than my schoolwork, lol. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Sansa had passed the sentence on Littlefinger, so she had swung the sword. She was no coward, she never even winced when his head came clean off his shoulders. Arya was surprised at her strength; she always remembered their father telling their brothers it took a great deal to take a man’s head. Sansa looked as if she had done it with ease, the blood staining the white snow and their house ancestral sword gleaming in the early morning sun.

Gendry had reforged it – he’d never told her, all those years ago, that his master in Kings Landing had meddled with Valyrian Steel –  _as_ best he could from Brienne’s _Oathkeeper (_ Joffrey’s Widow’s Wail had seemingly disappeared) and the remaining Valyrian steel found in the citadel. It’d never been the same, but nothing could dull the feelings that came after he presented it to the Queen of the North, as-well as pledging his Warhammer in her service. She knew she loved him then, though she often repressed those feelings.

That had been years ago, before the Great War had descended upon them and met in a battle of fire and ice. The war was over, now, and Sansa let Arya pass the sentence and swing the sword, counselling her in private for the advice she needed. Sometimes Jon was the one to pass the sentence, but not today. He was in Kings Landing, treating with Dragon Queen – Arya knew what would become of those meetings.

Her mind was a maze. She could barely focus during the beheading. She had not heard the slave trader’s blubbering over his life or his begging, just the thoughts inside her head. After she had done the deed, she’d taken off to the Godswood.

She took no pleasure in killing anymore. It was the sight of her mother that turned her off it – where was the joy in killing your enemies if it made you mad? Lady Catelyn had been merciful, once, but then came Lady Stoneheart and it all changed. _She is dead now,_ her thoughts tuned in to the sound of the whetstone polishing Ice, _mother is at rest._

“A raven came just now.” She was too wrapped up in her head to hear his heavy footsteps crunch against the snow. “It carried some interesting news.” He sounded bitter; and she had an inkling why.

She turned from her spot on the rock, beside the black pools and underneath the Heart Tree. His blue eyes were ablaze like his forge, his posture rigid and stiff. A scroll was clenched between his fingers.

“From Kings Landing. _From your cousin.”_ Arya’s brow lifted.

“And you read it?” She said dryly.

“Aye.” He responded firmly, making quick steps to hand her the scroll. “Her Grace read it out in front of the council.”

She unfolded the parchment and took in the words carefully.

It was just as she expected. A marriage betrothal, with her name offered up for the Targaryen Prince.

“You cannot accept.” His jaw was clenched so hard Arya was sure his teeth would shatter. “You _will not_ accept.”

“And why do you get to decide what _I_ can and cannot do?” Her voice was as cold as the wind.

“Because I love you.” Gendry was different. He had never shied away from his affections – he proudly announced it to anyone who would listen. “Because that pompous prick does not deserve you. Because you _belong_ in the North.” Arya sighed as he took a step forward, kneeling down in the damp snow to reach her eye level. His blue eyes softened and Arya felt as if the snow could melt away from his gaze. “And I know you love me, too. I see it in your eyes, I hear it in your voice when you call my name as we lay together.” Arya flushed and looked away. “I know you love me, Arya.”

She stood quickly, Ice falling off her lap into the snow. _“It’s not about me!”_ She hushed out quickly. “Nor about you, either. This is bigger than us. This is about the people; _my people._ Those who have suffered from the war, those who have no food or money and those working day after day, just to restore peace to the bloody country!”

“Fuck that.” He growled. “They’ve suffered just as we have. Do we not deserve to marry the ones we love? Have we not earned the right to do so, after everything?”

“This is the Queen’s command, Gendry. If we do not obey, peace will never return to Westeros.”

“Last time I heard, your sister and cousin reigned over the North; King and Queen of the North, our own domain; our own Kingdom?”

“Daenerys Targaryen has a far larger army than us. They have the wheat and grain, too, and dragons that could burn us to a crisp! We may rule the North but there is only one true leader of Westeros. The North is tired.” She huffed. “I am tired.”

“So you will leave your home, then?” He asked sourly. “You will leave your kin and venture south to marry some perfumed Prince who will arrogantly parade you like a doll?” She could not look him in the eye. “The Arya I knew would have never let this come about.”

“The Arya you knew is gone. She has been for a long time.” He scoffed and stepped back, then. It felt as if all the warmth had vanished.

“Yes.” He agreed. “I never thought Arya Stark would become craven.” Her grey eyes snapped to his.

“I am doing what is right by the realm!”

“And how long will this treaty stay? One hundred years from now, we will be nothing but ash and bones. The children you bare the Prince will be dead and the North and South will be at each other’s throats again, most like.” His eyes bore hard into hers, his hands clenched into fists, his chest heaving with deep breaths. “What is the point?”

 _What is the point?_ It echoed in her mind. If she were nine again, she would have spat on this proposal. She was a woman grown, now. She now understood why her mother harped on about a Lady’s duty so much. _What is the point?_

“I love you.” He said quietly, eyes sadly taking in her muddled expression. “You love me.” His hand came to gently caress her cheek. “Why should anyone get to take that from us?”

Silence. The wind whistled, the pools rippled and the Old Gods watched and waited and listened.

“They should not.”

The two moved hastily to embrace each other. His warm lips found hers and all her doubts were washed away; his touch so reassuring. It was rushed and messy and perfect, with Gendry carrying her all the way back to his forge and laying her down on the straw bed with soot-stained sheets and furs. She never cared, though.  

They melded together like hot steel, his lips finding her neck, then on her breasts and then between her thighs. He whispered at her, calling her beautiful and repeating over _and_ over just how much he loved her. She cried his name, she hushed it out; she bit her lip from the lingering heat of his touch. And when he was inside her, nothing had _ever_ felt more right.

She stayed with him into the early hours of the morning. The warmth of his body and the forge was almost too tempting to keep her huddled beside him, but soon Winterfell would bustle alive with the rays of the sinter sun.

She threw on the filthy dress that had lay on the dirty floor of the forge, retrieved Ice from the Godswood (she cursed her stupidity and lust for leaving it out all night) and headed back to the castle. The guards on watch payed her no mind – over the moons, they had spotted Lady Arya exiting the forge to return to the castle at dawn. They had all grown accustom to her ways.

She passed her chambers and stood outside the room that had always belonged to her mother and father. Jon and Sansa took room in there, now. She would never admit it from fear of being judged like a Lannister, but Sansa missed Jon. Arya constantly reminded her that people married their cousins all over Westeros, even though she would never see Jon as anything _but_ a brother. Arya thought it would have been a lifeless marriage, but knew they would do their duty for the Targaryen Queen; only the love Sansa and Jon shared for each other resembled the likes of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn’s marriage. They even _looked_ like them.

Sansa welcomed the warmth of her sister and stirred underneath the fur when she hopped in. It was quiet for some time, with Sansa’s serious gaze landing on her sister.

“You don’t have to do this.” She said softly, voice hoarse from sleep. “The Targaryen Queen is already getting one Northern girl, if Maester Sam is right.” Arya knew her sister’s hands had moved to rest on her swollen belly. “She does not need another.”

“I know.” Arya answered, and let herself be pulled into Sansa’s arms.

She did not tell Sansa that she already had her answer; she knew to decline as soon as Gendry’s lips pressed softly to her own. Right now, she could only let the strings of sleep be pulled and be lulled into a deep sleep.  

**Author's Note:**

> However late in the night (or early depending on how you look at it) I still have to time to plug my tumblr [@dalzoniii](http://dalzonii.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I'm trash and I know it. Tell me your thoughts!


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